Boys Don't Cry
by DeadlyGodiva
Summary: After being kicked out by Angel and now on his own Connor seeks to fill a hole left by his former life in Quor'toth and find comfort and peace the only way he knows how, for now. This story will/does contain themes of abuse, c/p, and anguish in general.
1. Chapter 1

Boys Don't Cry

Disclaimer: The idea and a few, very minor, characters are mine, which works for me.

Author's note: This chapter contains a somewhat detailed account of physical trauma/abuse, though it is not, for now, non-consensual, however if you do not wish to read about a teenager getting trounced please overlook this chapter, and basically this story in general, thanks. Now...on with the story.

* * *

Screams, some of pleasure and others of pain, blended together into an unholy mix, creating a whole new sound; one that would make angels tremble and the devil himself wary.

He could also smell the stench of raw, freshly spilled, blood as it hovered in the air, entangling with the pungent odor of blood that had long ago been spilt.

It was an odor intoxicating, inviting, and absolutely irresistible.

"Hey kid!"

The impatient call brought him crashing back down to true reality, his ethereal trance crudely broken.

Swinging his head to the left, he looked over at the individual that was directing another short shout at him.

"Are you coming in or what!"

A burly, beast of a man stood to one side of a very shoddy looking building, holding a heavy metal door halfheartedly open, allowing the previously undisturbed night air to become further permeated by the savage chaos raging within old walls.

Glassy eyes remained unresponsive to the inquiry but the youth began to shuffle forward laggardly as his feet fought his head, and his head fought his heart, while his heart fought his soul.

As he soon passed over the doorway's threshold, it wasn't exactly clear to him which one had won out over the others, all that mattered was what the end results would be regardless, and what price he'd have to pay to achieve them.

* * *

"You came back."

A face hardened by years of living, years filled with many trials and tribulations, evidenced by the scars that marred relatively handsome features, looked up to acknowledge the boy as he walked into the back room.

"Yeah," dropping down the duffel bag he carried to the floor, the teenager bent over to unzip it and remove some of its contents.

"Didn't think you would."

"Why not?", asking the question without any real desire to hear an answer, he shrugged off his long sleeved shirt and slipped on an over bleached and faded tee.

"Most guys who come in here, they have no idea what they're in store for, but you...it's like it's what draws you here, that this is what you're looking for, on purpose."

"Didn't peg you for a head-shrinker."

Chuckling, the older man reclined back in his chair, "Doesn't take much shrinking to get into the head of someone like you kid."

Raising his eyes up from his bag while zipping it closed the lad made brief visual contact with the man, "I seriously doubt that."

"Really?"

Straightening up from the floor, the adolescent kicked his bag aside as he moved to face the other side of the room, "There is no one else 'like' me. You have no idea what it means to be 'me', who I am, you could never know; you couldn't handle knowing."

Frowning at the unexpected response, the man, someone who fear itself would often cower before, all of a sudden felt quite uneasy at the boy's grim expression.

As the seconds ticked by, one by one, and the feeling only grew stronger he was finally forced to give up and look away first, unable to even brave another glimpse at him.

"You're up," were the only words he dared speak for fear of stammering.

Walking past the shaken individual, a small smile settled upon the child's lips as he drew closer and closer to the utter madness literally calling out and beckoning until it enveloped him completely, and he disappeared into a veil of infinite darkness.

* * *

"Take him!"

"Finish him!"

He could hear them as the mind numbing, thundering noise they made kept filling his ears, but the loud ringing that kept echoing through his mind made their jeers seem faint and far away.

Huddled in a ball on the filthy floor, lying in someone else's long lost life force that his own now mingled with, he kept his head tucked down into his arms for protection.

Never the face.

It was fine to go after any other part of him, didn't matter which or what or how hard, just not his face.

There was something empowering about having an completely unblemished visage and knowing, secretly, that below it was a battered, beaten, bruised body, something so very mangled and tortured it would turn a strong man's stomach and chill any warm heart to near ice.

Closing his eyes as he felt a heavy boot land once more on the middle of his back, he didn't cry out but instead rolled over so that the next hit would cover more territory.

A swift strike to the ribs, an arduous jab to the kidneys, he welcomed each and every advance to cause him agony, inviting the harsh punishment and giving the punisher full access to do his worst.

"Kid? Hey, you still with me?"

All physical activity ceased as a deep voice called out to him, "Wake up!"

Realizing who was speaking to him, he lifted up his head up then, staring into the person's eyes, the only part of the face unshielded by the dark mask they wore.

"How much longer you wanna go for?"

He knew the true question being asked him, 'how much more can you take?'.

And the answer he wanted to give would impossible to comprehend, or execute, so he just shook his head, "Keep going..."

"For how long though?"

Moving his left leg and feeling sharp, nearly unbearable, pain shoot through it, the boy unwillingly gasped his reply, "Until I can't feel anything at all…"

Nodding his head, or shaking it, it was a toss up which it was, the massive figure rose back up to his feet, gazing down at the weakened, bloodied, and broken down body of the youngster; for a moment, underneath his mask, a look of concern crossed his face.

But he was there to do a job, not care about the reasons why people volunteered to have the shit kicked out of them, so with the resigned consciousness of a detached mercenary he brought the steel toed boot he wore back and then kicked forward.

His head was reburied down in his arms, lying against the cold, unforgiving foundation of the ring, as he waited. Suddenly and unexpectedly the child felt an euphoric spirit pass over him, filling him full of total tranquility before a cracking noise was heard, like a shot, throughout the entire arena as metal met skull and his whole body slumped down to the floor, entirely unresponsive to the gradually fading to black world around him.

* * *

tbc...


	2. Chapter 2

"Come play with me, Daddy!"

The high, melodic voice chimed out sweet, airy, and perfect.

He could feel heat spreading across his face yet no pain followed after.

Closed eyes opened slowly, lazily, and he soon found himself staring directly up at the sun in full glory, the brightly burning ball hung up high and shimmering against the pale blue sky.

He gave a panicked start, shocked and fearful, scrambling to take cover for safety, only to find that he was rolling off of a blanket which covered up soft, grainy sand beneath it; sand he was now sitting in.

Cawing seagulls drew his attention to the right of him, and he saw the vast ocean mere yards away. It stretched out into the horizon endlessly; quiet waves rippling as gusts of wind blew across the crystal clear surface.

The sun was becoming hot on his back now, and admittedly it felt good, as it used to before; before it came to mean certain, excruciating, death. A disbelieving smile formed as he realized he was at the beach; in the middle of the day no less.

"Daddy! Come play with me!"

His eyes lifted and he saw a small child standing by the shore, waving one thin, wiry arm in the air, a brilliant grin on their face.

"Connor…"

His lips parted and his mouth dried out immediately, forcing him to merely whisper the name; the oh so precious name that had brought him more pain and misery than he could have ever imagined possible.

"I want to play, Daddy! Lets play!"

Kicking at the incoming tide with tiny feet, the boy giggled and proceeded to dance a short lived but extremely blissful jig around in the water mingling with the sand under his bare feet.

The scene was so cute, so adorable, and so breathtakingly heartbreaking.

The word "play" reverberated in time with the child's splashing and caught hold of his senses. With a beaming smile he went to heed the child's call, his innocent petition, but he found he couldn't. It felt as if he had been glued into place, unable to push forward despite his best efforts.

"What…?"

Confused, he tried to get up but all he could manage to do was force himself up to rest upon hands and knees.

"Silly Daddy! Silly Daddy!"

Connor began to chant over and over as he pointed at his father, laughing.

But the laugh didn't sound right; it was too loud for human ears to behold, it was too bold and haughty for one so young, and it was too…cruel.

He dragged his limbs, feeling as if they had been encased in cement, trying his best to crawl even like a babe towards the child.

"I…I'm coming I…"

"Come and play with me, Daddy! I want to play!"

"I'm trying!"

The ground seemed to be turning into quicksand by the second, swallowing up any and every moment he made, rendering any attempt to move barely an inch forward useless.

And then he heard it; the sound, the familiar sound that was a soul crushing sound.

The sound he'd never forget as long as he lived.

Out of nowhere behind the dancing, laughing boy appeared a portal. Through its gaping open entrance shone scenes from the other side; the barren wasteland, parched and cracked open as old, festering wounds would be; the red as blood sky, flashing terribly with yellowed sickness; the hideous, menacing, and deadly creatures which lumbered past the opening, searching for fresh prey.

Terror, absolute, gripped his heart, though dead and cold for centuries, and he let out a distressing, mournful cry.

"No! You won't get him again! You can't have him! Connor! Connor run! Run to me! Run to Daddy!"

"Come and get me, Daddy!"

The boy held out his arms to the man trapped and helpless, laughing still. It was now such an act so ugly it even made his young face contort and grow incredibly unpleasant to look at.

"Please!"

He begged no one in particular as he fought desperately against the unseen restraints holding him back that he could not see or do anything about.

"Not again…not again…Connor!"

Tears of rage and grief blinded him as he pulled and twisted with all his might, roaring out as loudly as he could.

"Can't get me, Daddy! You can't get me!"

The taunting struck him as if he was being physically hit with the words; their edges razor sharp and cutting deeper and deeper.

Then he was free.

He took a moment to recognize his body's regained mobility, and then he ran.

Running as fast as he possibly could, his legs pushed to their very limit and beyond.

"Connor!"

The child stood completely still, now balefully quiet, his eyes inhumanly dark and empty.

His arms stretched out, hands aching to touch and hold the little one; to save him.

To do what they had failed to before, and each and every other time since.

"No!"

An invisible force grabbed the boy just as he'd almost reached him and yanked him backwards into the portal.

"I was here! I was here!" I made it! I—!"

The portal snapped shut despite his imploring entreaties and vanished; the serene beach left behind seemingly untouched by its presence.

He dry heaved and dropped down to his knees, defeated.

"I was here…I had him…why can't I have him…?"

Fingers curled and began digging down deep while he clawed frantically at the sand where tiny footprints had been formed, so delicate and pristine.

So close.

He always came so close, but he could never beat it.

Could never win…ever.

His head dropped down, the truth tormenting him as usual, reminding him of his ultimate, unforgivable, failure as a man, as a champion, and as a father.

* * *

"Ahh!"

He gasped loudly, eyes opening abruptly as he looked around to see wooden walls surrounding him from all sides.

He was completely immobile and vulnerable.

Looking down at him was his boy, face devoid of any emotion.

"Connor…"

"You can't have me."

He watched, powerless to stop what was coming next, as an all too familiar coffin lid was slowly dropped down over him and a primal scream erupted from his throat, horrifying and desolate.

* * *

His breathing heavy and panickedm he sat straight up in his bed, gulping air he didn't need, wildly looking around the room as his hands opened and closed hastily to confirm that he was free to move at will.

"Get a grip Angel—it wasn't real—it's never real…"

Talking to himself, attempting to regain a sense of self composure, he stared out into the shadows of his darkened bedroom.

It was just a nightmare.

One that followed him wherever he went; that wormed its way into his thoughts; that haunted him day and night; a nightmare that every once in a while, as it had this night, would manage to snare him and catch him up in its heartless clutches.

It always forced him to face what was constantly eating him alive on the inside; exposing the endless amount of crushing hopelessness he felt.

Running one hand through his hair for a moment he sat silently, his expression brooding and pained.

He wondered if it would ever go away.

If something or someone somewhere would have pity on him, feel sorry enough for him, and believe him to have suffered enough to release him from those memories and feelings before they destroyed him.

End it all before it all became the end of him.

A single tear slid down his cold left cheek as his eyes shut once more all on their own.

How much more was he supposed to take?

How much more _could _he take…?

* * *

tbc…


End file.
